


the great masked misery

by C0LUMBINE



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, First Meetings, Guns, M/M, On the Run, Robbery, Smut, Theft, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 18:47:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20532821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C0LUMBINE/pseuds/C0LUMBINE
Summary: Six days into the third week, he figures he might need help. Not with getting his life back on track it fell out of, but with making sure nobody busts him while he's at work.And that's when he finds Josh. Or, more so, Josh finds him.





	the great masked misery

**Author's Note:**

> hello! it's been a while. five months, actually. i've been working on this fic for at least three months but i actually can't even remember at this point. i'm excited to finally post something new :") i re-read this one so many times that i just gave up when it reached 8k. if i forgot any tags that should be added, please tell me!
> 
> ((just a little warning -- tyler forgets to eat one day and it leads to vomitting))
> 
> hope y'all enjoy this ride.

The bubblegum starts it. A rather useless thing to spend money on, something to keep the mouth busy until the chewed-up strip runs out of flavor and concludes its journey in a trash container, or continues it on the underside of a shoe if it's lucky. And so, it's a perfect starter, a perfect lab rat to help him find out if it's something he would be into. He won't use the gum for what it was made, he will most likely shove the pack into the pocket of his pants and forget about it until he finds it at the bottom of the washing machine with washed off color a couple of weeks later.

It goes smoothly. Way too smoothly for his own good. The gas station is busy during summer, with tens of cars and twice the amount of people passing by, walking from corner to corner to look for overpriced chips and ice cream or a pine tree scented air freshener. The guy behind the counter is busy explaining how to get to the Ohio Statehouse to somebody who has never been there before and Tyler takes his time to pick the flavor that won't matter anyway. He picks up a pack of bubblegum and doesn't see much of a change. If he took it and walked out, chances are that nobody would notice until they counted very carefully.

That's not satisfying, and Tyler wants it to be, he wants there to be an empty hole where something else used to be, he wants somebody to wonder who took it all. For somebody to feel the consequences of his actions and feel the loss that comes with his gain is exactly what he wants. So he takes more. He takes until there's nothing left but a box, putting everything in the pockets of his hoodie. Everybody is too busy. This place is too busy.

He will leave the gas station and feel fulfilled knowing that once the boss arrives at the end of the day, they will find it hilarious that somebody has bought out the entire supply of bubblegum. The fact that the employee will have to explain that not a single pack of bubblegum has been sold during his shift makes Tyler feel something close to satisfaction.

He feels sharper when he makes it outside and gets a breath of fresh air. He feels more vivid, vibrant, alive. He feels important now that he knows the employee will be in trouble. He wants somebody to look for him, to be after him, to wonder how he looks.

But he doesn't want to be found. And he won't be, of that he's sure.

* * *

A couple of months fly by and Tyler spends them purely on improving the skills he never knew he would need to possess to push some purpose into his life. Patience is important. So is a good eye, and so are quick reflexes.

Six days into the third week, he figures he might need help. Not with getting his life back on track it fell out of, but with making sure nobody busts him while he's at work. He can only go so long while looking behind his back every five seconds. He needs somebody to do it for him.

Of course, the ideal world would be the one in which there are eyes on each side of his head. One pair on the front, the pair he was born with. Second on the back of his head, hidden under his hair to watch every person that approaches him. Then there would be one on the right and one on the left, none of them ever blinking, not even needing to. But that's just what his imagination comes up with, and reality is drastically different and more boring.

In the end, he settles on something else. And that's when he finds Josh. Or, more so, Josh finds him, but Tyler gives him guidance.

Tyler keeps seeing him near his house for days, which quickly turn into weeks before he even finds out that his name is Josh. Strangely shaped eyes watch him from different distances and angles, carefully observing his every move. Tyler begins to recognize them one day, of course, after seeing them every day they become somewhat familiar. The face on top of which they're placed seems familiar, too, makes him feel warm on the inside. It's a strangely comforting thing to look at. It's exciting to know that somebody is interested.

Neither of them talks, letting each other observe instead. But Tyler realizes soon that they're just wasting time that could be used for something else.

Eventually, he puts a piece of paper on his front door with a message that says, "Stop staring and start talking," and waits.

* * *

Being able to dig the strangest facts and images out of the darkest depths of the web is one of the huge advantages of being able to access the Internet. Reading gruesome stories which other people have shared online under the cover of anonymity brings relief and peace of mind - Josh's definition of relief and peace of mind. It eases his pain, keeps his mind busy and away from the fact that he's waiting, not knowing exactly what for.

Unsolved murders, alien abductions, the government controlling an average human's every move through actions they would never classify as suspicious -- it's all blood-curdling and excitingly dark. Josh digs further and further into it every day, just because he cannot think of anything better to do with the free time he gets between shifts.

It seems as if his brain is unable to focus on anything while he's enveloped by the safety of his own house. In order to read and extract the most important parts of the stories, he has to be as close to the horrible, disgusting reality of the world as possible. He wants to feel like something equally as traumatizing as some of the things he's reading about could happen to him any minute.

It's pure boredom and misery that guides him towards a dark, nasty looking alley with a single trash container in the right corner. The beaten up, brick walls are covered with messages written in spray paint and markers. He sometimes adds his own and awaits a response that never comes.

A message from somebody else comes instead, and Josh feels uneasy knowing that somebody else has started lurking around the alley looking to do business. It's not a regular statement, not a question asked by somebody so lost that their only hope for answers is in the cracks of a brick wall. It's an offering, a demand, somebody asking for a very specific and definite deal. And though Tyler didn't have the time to put every detail on the alley ad and only found enough energy stored somewhere deep in his body to mention money and the fact that no matter what goes down, he's the one in charge, it's just enough to have Josh shiver with curiosity.

He doesn't need to know more than what is provided. Instead, he follows the directions and soon ends up stuck in what feels like the process of gentling by staring into Tyler's dark, intense, exhausted eyes through the windows of his house and having him stare right back. He wants to start a conversation, but Tyler never seems to be interested in talking. He doesn't act any different than he would if he were all by himself, occasionally smirking or covering up his mouth to conceal signs of excitement.

It goes on until the day Josh fids the message on Tyler's front door. It almost tastes bitter when he mumbles it to himself, standing closer to the entrance than ever before. He scratches the back of his head and wonders what he should do. But he doesn't know Tyler yet. Josh doesn't know that he plans everything in advance and even though his offerings and hints are unclear, they make perfect sense in his head and at least ten of Tyler's next steps are carefully thought through.

Josh doesn't expect the door to open so suddenly and a cold, soft hand to reach for his bare forearm to pull so hard he's almost knocked off his feet. He follows. It's finally time. He just follows.

The house is dark and stuffed with things Josh keeps tripping over and Tyler simply avoids. Josh is impressed by how well he knows his surroundings, even when he's only using his instinct to stay on his feet.

Tyler stops without giving Josh a warning beforehand and pushes him onto what he assumes is a bed. Then, a switch clicks and there is light. And Tyler looks unreal.

He is tall, possibly taller than Josh by a few inches. His legs are long, skinny, calves wrapped in golden skin and fuzz exposed where his shorts cut off and his ankles are so small it almost hurts Josh to imagine his own in comparison. Tyler looks fragile and defenseless, but that is only the language his body speaks while his face tells a different story.

Tyler's face is round, topped with stubble that looks even darker in the dim light. His nose is long, nostrils wide, lips glossy and curved in a way that adds up to his uninterested, neutral expression. His eyes and eyebrows do their job to make him look intimidating as well, creating a barrier between him and whoever is trying to approach him, sort of a warning that advises not to get any closer. His messy hair is what ties everything about him together. Tyler looks exhausted, head tilted in gentle curiosity, and perhaps that's why he's asking for help. He needs somebody to do the dirty work for him while he's getting his well-deserved rest. Josh hopes this isn't the case.

Tyler looks him up and down, and Josh assumes it's to decide whether he's the right person to help him or not. Either that, or he just wants to check how fast Josh's heart could beat until it gives up. "Hey. Sorry about that."

"Dude, you scared the hell out of me," Josh says and hears a quiet snicker right away. Tyler looks away.

"I said I was sorry. Now, um. We have to talk."

Josh nods. This is what he's here for. "So, how d'you wanna do this?"

Tyler takes a step closer. His eyes are cold and half-lidded. Josh wonders whether he ever found the time to sleep. There have been times when he heard music coming from his house and saw images flashing on his TV screen late at night.

"Alright, listen." Tyler rakes his fingers through the mess of hair on his head and continues. "First of all, I'm not telling you my name unless you earn it. And I don't wanna know yours until then, got it?" Josh gives him a light nod once again. Tyler sighs. "Just call me Blurry, I guess. I forgot to tell you that-"

"Spooky," Josh interrupts. Tyler doesn't finish. "Since you want to use code names, I mean."

"Oh. Okay, yeah, that's good."

Silence immediately slips between them both, and they just wait it out. Tyler thinks he might hate Josh for being so unnecessarily calm and allowing him to get lost in his head and stay quiet, but he's not sure yet. Josh should be asking questions, digging as deep as he possibly could in Tyler's head to familiarize himself with his motives and what he's all about.

Josh truly wants to know more. Reading for hours has given him a certain amount of knowledge that allows him to make his own assumptions about Tyler and his decision to live purely off of what he manages to steal. But asking so directly would be too easy, it would erase all the enticement that comes with watching and figuring everything out as they go. Besides, he's quite disoriented and stressed, so Tyler decides to do things his way and leave Josh's unasked questions unanswered, just as he likes.

Tyler pulls something out of his back pocket and hands it over to Josh. Even though Josh can't see very well what it is at first, the rough fabric makes a few ideas pop up. It's a mask, and Josh can tell by the holes in the front that his fingers end up in after a moment of examination.

"C'mon. Put it on," Tyler urges. "You ain't Spooky until there's nothing left of you but eyes and lips."

And so, Josh does, stretching the seam and pulling it over his head. He adjusts the front to make sure the holes align perfectly with his eyes and pulls at the fabric that bulges over his nose. He looks up at Tyler and asks, "How's it look?"

"Don't take it the wrong way but, man, if you kept it on every day I wouldn't be mad at what I'm seeing." Josh scoffs. So Tyler isn't just darkness and severity, he can be cheesy if the situation calls for it. That's something worth noting. He crouches in front of Josh and cups his face, tucking his thumbs under the seams around Josh's eyes to feel his skin and bones, just out of curiosity that builds up inside him. Tyler needs a moment to let Josh's physicality, the fact that he's real, sink in. "It's crazy how well it suits you."

"Jeez," Josh says quietly.

Tyler's tongue darts out to glide across his bottom lip and his eyes stick to Josh's for good. He needed this. He wanted to be so close he could see all the shades of brown and green combined to create the warm mix around Josh's pupils. For what feels like years rather than weeks. "We'll be unstoppable," he says. "If you let us."

Tyler wants this. He wants it so, so badly. Good thing is, he doesn't have to worry about rejection – Josh wants this just as much, even if he doesn't know why exactly.

* * *

Handing some of his responsibilities over to a stranger was one of the smartest and best decisions Tyler could have made to improve the quality of his performance and the amount of profit he makes weekly. Food doesn't give him satisfaction anymore, neither do items like lighters or fuel tanks to pour the contents into their car. Though they still occasionally take a couple to throw into the trunk before leaving, it happens only when Tyler decides is right.

Josh is stronger than him, better at keeping his emotions on the inside and controlling the urge to do the entertaining but unnecessary. Josh will hold somebody at gunpoint if he needs to, but won't shove it into their chest until they start weeping with fear the way Tyler likes to.

Tyler pops a cherry-flavored lollipop into his mouth, less busy arm held up to keep his gun pointed at the chest of the person behind the gas station counter. It's a fairly fresh addition and still feels new in his hand, but surely a useful addition as well. Nobody will fear a scrawny guy in a dress shirt, ski mask, and vibrant, red socks poking out from under the legs of his pants unless he can offer to shoot a bullet through their skull at any moment, free of charge.

Gas stations, despite not being Tyler's favorite places to visit, are definitely his favorite targets. It's humbling to be reminded of where he started, and emptying the cash register is child's play. Josh scoops bills up and shoves them into the steel case on the counter while Tyler loosens the tie around his neck and groans with relief. The summer heat is murderous. His shirt is sticking to his back.

Sweet saliva leaks out of the corner of Tyler's mouth and he wipes it off with the back of his hand before it can soak into the edge of his mask. Sticky hands, compared to a sticky mask, are the lesser evil. "Keep 'em here for me, would you?" he asks, keeping the muzzle pointed towards the employee and carefully handing Josh his gun. Josh takes it, making sure it stays pointed exactly where Tyler wants, moving onto the pennies. "Hey." Tyler smacks Josh's shoulder. "Leave something for 'em, yes?" he says, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth and wrapping it up in a piece of paper that's way too small to cover it. He puts it in the pocket on the front of his shirt, already bored of the taste.

Josh nods, putting the money back into the register. Tyler nods right back and undoes the top button of his shirt before heading down the nearest aisle.

Just the essentials. This is what he has to keep reminding myself. A pack of baby wipes to get his face clean with when they're done will do him good. So will a cold bottle of water. He doesn't need a double-glazed donut at all, but he picks up a couple. One for himself and one for Josh. He shoves the one meant for him into his mouth and bites down on it to make carrying everything back to the register easier.

The silver case is resting beautifully on the counter, closed, locked and ready to be picked up like an order at a restaurant, carefully prepared just for him. He wishes Josh would start paying more attention to stacking the bills and putting them next to each other evenly to make counting easier afterward, but they can still work on it.

Tyler takes the gun out of Josh's hand and replaces it with the donut, shoving the bottle and wipes into his chest. Josh takes everything without a word. Tyler pulls the saliva-soaked donut out of his mouth after taking a bite on it and chews obnoxiously while speaking. "Thanks for cooperating. Makes our job more fun," he says to the employee and taps their cheek with the tip of the gun, offering them a forced smile. "Don't forget to count to twenty before calling the cops, alright? We don't want to bother you any longer."

Tyler's advice is immediately met with a quiet, broken whisper of understanding and that's enough for him to be satisfied. However, it doesn't take an expert level of knowledge to see through the fear painted across a human's face. Tyler doesn't have to be a genius to foresee what will happen as soon as they leave.

He picks up the case and says, "C'mon, dude," nodding towards the exit.

They walk out in a hurry, Tyler taking so many steps in so little time he almost trips over his own feet. He drops the remains of his snack on the ground and Josh, not expecting Tyler to nearly start running and distracted by the donut tumbling away, can barely keep up with him. Wanting to ask a question doesn't help either. Eventually, he manages to grab ahold of Tyler's arm and slow him down.

"D'you think they're counting?" he asks.

Tyler scoffs, not even looking at him. "Course not. Who would?"

Josh isn't sure what he was expecting to hear. "Oh."

"We gotta get out of here."

As soon as they make it to the car, Tyler pulls the keys out of the pocket of his shirt, same one he shoved the lollipop in earlier, grimacing at how sticky they feel in his palm. He almost drops the case while unlocking the car and his heart almost drops all the way down to his stomach. He throws the case into the backseat as quick as he can to take some weight off his shoulders and waits for Josh to get in first. Josh's designated place is always behind the steering wheel, to which he crawls clumsily from the wrong side because Tyler thinks it will save them time. It doesn’t.

Tyler plops in the passenger seat and exhales heavily. His shirt is drenched with sweat, sticking to his chest and revealing the thick, boxy tattoos hidden underneath. He doesn't even care about the fact that Josh isn't driving yet. He just needs to breathe. He needs to breathe. He's breathing too hard. What if he isn't breathing hard enough? He starts fumbling with the buttons of his shirt and his mind starts to float.

"S' hot in here. You should take the mask off, too."

The way Josh is looking at him, watching the endeavor as if he's enjoying his struggles, makes Tyler's hands twitch. He could have sworn Josh was already driving. It must have been his head, feeling a little unstable on his shoulders.

"Why are we still here?" Tyler asks to throw him off while he's getting the last couple of buttons, and it works. He pulls the mask off and feels worse than when it was still on, absorbing all the sweat.

"Cause I'm worried about you." Josh tilts his head and, of course, this confession makes Tyler laugh.

Tyler presses his head against the headrest and turns to Josh, remains of amusement still present on his face. "S' funny that you feel that way," he admits. Usually, introductions come before feelings do, but apparently, their case is a little odd. It's hard for him to believe that Josh got attached to his personality, to his actions, to what he represents, rather than to a combination of names that are supposed to make him the person he is. Josh followed him blindly without needing a label to put on him to make things easier or more personal, and that's more than Tyler asked for in the first place. He exhales heavily and wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Then, he reaches out for a handshake. "Name's Tyler. There, now you know."

"Dang, that one wasn't on my list." Tyler huffs out a laugh and looks away when Josh takes his hand and squeezes tightly, almost as if he's ashamed of his true identity. "I'm Josh."

"Cool. We'll pick this up later. Now, please, drive. We wasted too much time."

Josh does. He drives. He drives, and Tyler repeats his name in his head, once, twice, ten times, until it nestles inside it and begins to feel more comfortable than Spooky.

Josh. His name is Josh.

* * *

The name exchange removes a layer of protection that Tyler has wrapped around himself in hopes of staying safe. He wants to believe that Josh deserves to know his name, that they have been working together for long enough to trust each other to a certain degree. It's not as easy as he thought it was going to be, though, the possibility of Josh using his name against him keeps him up at night, guard constantly on.

There's kindness hiding in Josh's eyes, and there should be none in the eyes of a self-made criminal. But Tyler doesn't care. Maybe that's the one thing about Josh that will keep him sane.

* * *

He's awoken by perpetually expanding pain, pressing against the walls of his skull and threatening to rip apart the cranial sutures to let his sorry brain slip out. He counts on it, hopes that it finally becomes too much and blows the contents of his skull out to put him at peace. But a minute passes and is followed by another, then a couple more, as if the previous two were not already agonizing enough. None of what he wishes for happens. His head stays in one piece but has surely been affected by the fact that he seems to be stuck inside what feels like a metal can.

His eyes are wide open and filled with panic, but unable to see anything in pitch darkness. All he can feel is his own, hot breath filling out the small portion of space around him. It grows thicker as soon as it escapes his mouth and then takes a turn to slither right back inside and suffocate him. He keeps coughing and shifting in his spot, but there's not much space for him to maneuver. He's unable to even simply stretch out his legs to let blood circulate properly. He feels nauseous. He feels like he's about to pass out and never wake up again.

He lifts his hands and presses them flat to the surface above. It's hot and metallic, hurting the soft palms without much effort and making him retract with a hiss. This must be a car. There is no other logical explanation. He can almost remember, almost, almost--

"Josh!" he finally calls out. "Pull over!"

Darkness begins to pool behind his eyelids and the car continues to move rapidly despite his shouting. He can't allow himself to lose consciousness again, can't spend another minute in this place, or he may never get to experience another day. All the unfinished business and things he has yet to accomplish taken into consideration, he lifts his hands up again and starts banging as hard as he can, ignoring the pain that begins to spread through his fists and down to his forearms. It doesn't matter how painful it is, doesn't matter how bruised his hands are going to be after this, as long as he finally gets to escape and fully grasp his life instead of chasing its tail and holding on to it by a few loose hairs.

This is not how his life works. He should be in complete control of his own life. It should never slip and turn the other way around for too long.

It takes a solid minute of desperate tries of getting his partner's attention until the car finally halts, tires screeching against the asphalt and then quieting down when they hit the dirt on the side of the road. The thought of finally being released makes his heart pound even faster against his ribs and sweat drip down his face and chest.

The engine turns off, and that's when he gets to hear how loud and shallow his own breath has been this whole time. It almost comes out in wheezes and it distracts him to the point where he stops breathing at all once the trunk opens and fresh air hits his wet, sticky face.

Josh looks down on him with a grimace, but he doesn't look much like himself with the black, thick ski mask draped over his face for protection. In most cases, he would consider it an empowering sight, something that gives him a kick to keep working and grabbing what he earns in fistfuls. This time, it completely terrifies him.

He cannot see himself, but Josh can, and Josh chooses to stare at him while he's shaking and mindlessly feeling around himself to locate a couple of silver cases. The cases are important. The cases are the key. He's mumbling something under his breath. He doesn't realize that.

Josh sighs heavily and pulls the mask off, tucking it into the pocket of his pants, then leans in. He puts a hand under Tyler's head and pulls the same, black mask off of his face to then give his cheek a couple of light smacks. Nothing too intense, just making his skin sting to inject him with self-awareness he seems to be lacking right now.

It helps, for some reason. Tyler’s eyes open a little wider and his thousand-yard stare shifts to a focus point, right in the middle of Josh's face, where his eyes are situated.

Tyler. His name is Tyler. And it creeps its way back into his mind just about now. It's just as common and unimpressive of a name as it used to be thirty years ago, when somebody decided it would fit him and attached it to him like a patch he could never tear off, no matter how hard he tried. He could only conceal it, but never permanently.

"You okay, dude?" Josh asks.

Tyler attempts to sit up. He even succeeds, after three tries, but he succeeds. He finally gets to stretch his legs out and let his feet touch the ground when he hops out of the car. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and wobbles a little.

"I've been in there for an hour and a half," he says, giving Josh a contemptuous look. "I'll let you guess."

Josh tries to approach him and offer a hand in keeping balance, but Tyler bats at it and pushes him away. Josh is used to most of the many faces of Tyler's unusual behavior, but that still manages to catch him off guard. Before he gets the chance to open his mouth and suggest sitting back down and taking a sip of water to restore strength, Tyler hunches down and coughs loudly, until everything that's left in his stomach begins to escape through his mouth. It's not much. He can't remember whether he's had the time to eat earlier or not. It's acidic and bitter and Tyler does everything he can to spit everything out.

Josh is watching silently, and that's probably the best thing he could choose do. Tyler looks miserable, but Josh knows he wouldn't appreciate a direct callout, so he tries to be careful with his words. "You need a break."

Tyler looks up at him with glossy eyes and sniffles, then shoots back, "Zip it. I know what I'm doing."

Josh scoffs, impressed by the fact that Tyler is brave enough to say such things after everything that's happened in the past couple of hours. But Josh knows him, he knows exactly how Tyler's mind works and how he functions at this point. And barely standing on his feet, spitting out his guts while half of his loot is on the other side of the state but still acting as if he's got everything under control is completely normal. Josh crosses his arms in front of his chest and says, "Clearly you didn't when you decided to ride back there."

Tyler doesn't reply. He doesn't even make a sound, but Josh can tell he's sizzling like a flame on the inside. He's just too busy thinking about something else to externalize it. He straightens his back and hears bones popping. He groans quietly and looks at Josh. "The case. Where's the other case?"

Josh's lips pucker. His eyebrows furrow and his fingers do the math. "I'd say at least, uh, two hundred miles away."

Josh can pinpoint the exact moment the last ounces of confidence and hope are washed off Tyler's face. "What the hell do you mean two hundred miles?"

Josh backs off before Tyler can get ahold of his shirt and puts his arms up. "What I mean is that you dropped it on your way to the car and told me to drive, so I did." Tyler doesn't seem satisfied with his explanation. Josh elaborates. "I wanted to find a place to stay the night in Grand Rapids, but you started freaking out. 'S all."

Tyler takes a step back and allows everything to settle in his head. He takes a deep breath. "And where are we now?"

"Lansing."

Tyler sighs. For the longest time, he thought the stars rose for him and everything was spinning in the direction he desired. He thought that the moon was hanging high up in the sky strictly because he willed it into existence by staring mindlessly into the dot littered void of outer space every evening. He thought that his wondrous self managed to force the night to pull its cape over the entirety of Columbus whenever he needed it. That was when he worked best when his mind was in its freshest state, and that was his home – the town that raised him and cared for him. The town that almost deprived him of life a couple of times, but still his town, where everybody recognized his face, but at the same time did not know that it consisted of angles and layers never previously seen.

For a while now, he's lived in his own, private bubble, which could only host as much as his weight and Josh's weight combined, and that was enough. He worked hard and had the payment pushed up to his nose on a silver platter every single time. All until this day. All until now. And that was a fatal punch to the gut. Almost literally, too. His empty stomach had almost started consuming itself out of lack of different solutions, growling furiously and threatening to spew again.

"Copy," Tyler says mindlessly. He lifts his shirt and wipes his face with it, then lets go of it and tries to straighten it with his hands. "Alright, listen. We'll find a place in Lansing, just for the night. You'll drive. Right? You'll drive." He doesn't wait for an answer. He just shares his plan and starts walking towards the car.

Josh rolls his eyes. Typical. "Hey, dude." He steps up to him and grabs him by the collar of his shirt, pulling back. Tyler stops and huffs with displeasure. "We're getting you some food first, 'kay?"

Tyler groans, fixing his shirt. "Fine, whatever."

* * *

They find a gas station. Tyler knows gas stations well at this point and feels as though they know him just as well, having seen him at his best, as often as at his worst. It's a bittersweet relationship, each and every one of their recent meetings was forced, but Tyler still finds comfort in standing in the middle of the cereal aisle and staring blankly at the colorful boxes full of sugar and artificial flavor. He never buys anything, but he doesn't have to. Simply unplugging his brain is priceless.

They don't spend more time than necessary inside. Tyler doesn't feel like getting disconnected from his brain after his trunk experience, so he gets a Redbull instead, straight out of the fridge, then asks the guy at the register for a single bend-able straw. His request gets immediately denied and an offer of ten for two bucks is made instead. Tyler knows exactly how much money he's lost due to his breakdown, he could easily count down to the last penny, so he settles on the can and a little extra struggle.

Josh is thankful for the way Tyler handled the encounter. He knows that if they weren't already wanted, with possible clues that could lead the cops right to them, it wouldn't have ended like that. Josh knows that if only the circumstances were more favorable, Tyler would be pulling a gun out of his pocket instead of a dollar fifty.

Tyler has more bark than bite, but his bark causes more trouble than a bite would sometimes. He's like a dog that's surrounded by a fence, twice its height and ridden with spikes. The fence protects the dog and allows it to bark at other, bigger dogs as much as it pleases because they can't reach it. If suddenly the fence was removed, the dog would be caught and torn to shreds before it could defend itself.

Would, however, is a keyword in Tyler's case. What he lacks in strength and self-defense, he makes up in speed and artifice. It's always there to help him run around his enemies until they're tangled into a knot and unable to catch him. And if all that fails, there's always a dog twice his size right behind him, ready to follow and protect.

Tyler chooses to sit in the back of the car this time. For some reason, it seems like a perfect idea and a good way to lower the level of suspicion they are about to raise while driving around Ohio. Josh will be in the driver's seat, seemingly without any company, and Tyler will stay in the back and out of trouble.

"Hey. Hey, Josh."

Communicating with one person in the backseat isn’t the safest, but Josh can't ignore Tyler when he calls. "What's up?" He replies, taking a glance at the rear-view mirror, not getting anything out of it but a blurry, shaky reflection.

"There's a bottle under your seat. Give it to me," Tyler says. His mouth feels dry, his lips are sticking together, the same way his shorts stick to his thighs and his thighs stick to the leather of the seat.

"How am I supposed to-"

"Just slow down a little, dude. I gotta pee, and I'm not using the can again."

Josh rolls his eyes reaches under the seat, trying to keep his focus on the road somehow. It's not hidden as far as he expected, thankfully, so he pulls it out and chucks it at Tyler as fast as he possibly can to get both his hands back on the steering wheel. Tyler yelps, failing to catch it and watching it bounce off his chest.

Tyler curses under his breath but picks it up, almost hitting his head in the process. He unscrews the cap and flicks it away without a thought, shoving the bottle between his knees. He regrets not doing this before they hit the road. His heart is racing, his bladder is aching and his hand is shaking, barely gripping his dick at all once it's finally out of his shorts, tip pressed to the rim of the bottle.

He lets himself go with a quiet grunt of frustration, eyes closing, head tilting backward. He keeps pissing for a while. It's enough to fill up the bottle and spill over, staining his shorts. He's too exhausted to care.

He leans forward and sticks the bottle in the can holder between the seats. "I lost the cap somewhere, so. Be careful."

Josh sighs. He would scold Tyler for this if he weren't used to it.

The rest of the ride is quiet. Josh stares at the stretch of asphalt ahead and Tyler sips on his drink, ignoring Josh's offering of food yet again. He pours everything that's in the can into his body instead until his heart starts beating at a rhythm that's almost unrecognizable by his organism. He assumes that the quickened pulse in his skull is just an extreme reaction to taurine dealing its damage inside his empty stomach. He doesn't worry too much, closing his eyes instead when the edges of the road start to blur and his hands go numb.

Josh was probably right when he said Tyler needed a break. Taking it when he feels close to dying sounds perfect. He begins to drift away, slowly, slowly, until his brain disconnects from his body.

* * *

Tyler wakes up in a setting so contrary to that in which he found himself losing consciousness and so uncomfortably safe that it spirals him right into panic. Something is weighing him down, tightly wrapped around his body, even tucked carefully under his feet to make sure no warmth has a way to escape. Something wet and cold slips off his forehead when he starts tossing and turning.

Tyler lifts himself up hurriedly and finds himself in a bed. Just a bed, and the color on the walls suggests that it isn't his house. He turns to the side and locks eyes with Josh. Just Josh. He's holding a wet towel and observing his every move with curious eyes, rimmed by glasses. He looks tired, and understandably so.

"Thank god you're up, I thought you were gone for good," he says with relief, squeezing the towel in his hands.

Tyler rubs the back of his head and groans. Sensitive. He doesn't remember anything. "What happened?" 

"You passed out again. Had to scoop you up and bring you inside. I told the owners you were asleep and they gave us a room." Josh nips at his bottom lip nervously. "I should have made you eat that sandwich." 

"No," Tyler grumbles. "No, you're good. I told you not to worry about my eating habits." He takes a moment to stretch out his arms. He moves his head from side to side, too, a quiet crack accompanying each turn. "I did, right? The other day." 

"You did."

Tyler scratches the back of his head and winces. "Ow, man. It hurts." 

Josh can only imagine. He had no other choice but to do everything he could think of to make sure Tyler made it out without needing professional medical help. His knowledge in that field is scarce, but Tyler is alive and that's all that matters right now. Even if 'barely' could be put in front of 'alive' and still be applicable. Tyler leans back and slowly sinks into the pillows. His muscles feel worn out, but his head isn't pounding as hard as earlier anymore. He will probably be back to full wellness in a moment. 

Josh dips the towel in a bowl of water on the nightstand and leans in to press it to Tyler's forehead. "Hold it," he says, tapping Tyler's hand impatiently. Tyler presses gentle fingers to the towel, tips going numb. Josh is reaching for something and Tyler's eyes follow mindlessly. "Maybe this will make you feel better." 

Josh offers him the case from earlier, unlocked, the lid lifted up ever so slightly in almost an inviting way. Tyler perks up, suddenly rejuvenated by the sight. He pushes himself up again and reaches out with grabby hands. Of course, one for each hand would have been better than the only one that survived, but that doesn't diminish its value in the slightest. 

His fingers almost touch the case, he can almost feel the cold metal beneath his fingertips and smell the pile of bills hiding inside, but he gets none of those things. Josh closes the case as soon as Tyler gets closer, the sound of the metal top colliding with the bottom making him pull back with wide eyes. 

"Josh? What are you doing?" Tyler asks, eyebrows furrowed in disappointment. He's not in the mood to be messed with. 

"Trying to get to you before it's too late," Josh responds calmly, placing the case in his lap and embracing it with his arm. 

Tyler chuckles, shaking his head. This must be a game that Josh wants to play, for whatever reason. Tyler forces himself to move a little closer and tries to grab the case, but he ends up being the one grabbed by his wrist and tugged forward until there's no choice for him but to look right into Josh's eyes. "Stop fooling around and give it to me, I need to count-" 

"Tyler, I'm serious. You're going crazy," Josh says, grasping his wrist a little tighter and doing the same with the case. 

Tyler hisses, fingers twisting like worms. He shudders, mouth tilted open to pant easily. Josh doesn't look pleased. "I know I'm not the best at taking care of myself, but I'll work on it, okay? I'll work on it," Tyler offers, hoping it's enough to lay the dust. Josh lets go of his hand and Tyler backs off. 

Josh puts the case on the floor and kicks it under the bed. There's no point in trying to make Tyler understand something when he's looking at it like a bird looks at a shiny rock. "Listen to me. This isn't healthy." 

Tyler huffs out a laugh and lifts up the covers. Much to his surprise, he's got nothing on but his trusty, old pair of shorts. He must have been deeply lost on the other side if Josh managed to pull off his hoodie and shoes without pulling him out of unconsciousness. He doesn't remember anything at all and definitely didn't realize that Josh was carrying him upstairs and tossing him around to get him undressed. That makes him think. But not for long. 

Tyler sits up and scoots towards the edge of the bed to sit properly next to Josh. He looks at him and smiles. "Took you long enough to realize, huh? None of this is healthy, and you know what?" He pauses, poking Josh's chest with his index finger. "You signed up for it." 

Josh looks down, glasses sliding down the sweaty bridge of his nose. Tyler isn't wrong, he did sign up for it, and he doesn't regret it. He only wishes that Tyler could learn how to pay as much attention to health as he does to work, both mental and physical. He got attached to him like a band-aid that covers up a wound and he doesn't want to go anywhere. He just wishes Tyler could better himself somehow, or try to, at least. For his own sake. Josh doesn't want to watch him fall apart. 

"Why are you here?" Tyler asks. Josh doesn't reply and doesn't look up, either. "Look at me." Josh doesn't. "I said, look at me." Josh does this time, half of his eyes hiding behind the frame of his glasses. "Do you feel forced to be here? Are you scared of me or something?" 

"No. And no." Josh hopes the hesitation in his voice isn't too strong. 

Tyler nods, tapping his fingers on the mattress and thinking. He looks around and finally, he inhales sharply and straightens his back. "Alright. Let's try something, then." 

Josh tilts his head up. "What do you want-" 

Tyler shushes him mid-sentence, putting his hand on Josh's knee to reach towards the nightstand. It's empty, save for the bowl of water and his gun, resting a little too close to the edge for his taste. He picks it up and cocks it, angling it in different ways. Once he's done analyzing every pattern, he gazes meaningfully upon Josh. Except Josh doesn't know exactly what it's supposed to mean, and he's too nervous to make assumptions. 

"Get on your knees," Tyler orders. His voice is quiet but demanding enough to be reckoned with. "C'mon now, you heard me." 

Josh has no idea what Tyler is thinking of, but he knows what he signed up for. He knew what he was doing when he followed every clue Tyler has given him and, obviously, this wasn't going to be easy. He can admit that his own curiosity has consumed him, and so has Tyler's chaotic personality and careless approach to life. 

He does what Tyler asks for. He kneels in front of him and pushes his glasses back up to see him better. 

Tyler says, "Mouth," and something clicks in Josh's head. 

As soon as he opens his mouth, Tyler leans in and places the muzzle of the gun on his tongue. Josh swallows dryly while it's still somewhat comfortable and his eyes struggle to find something to focus on, objects jittering in front of him. 

"You still remember what I wrote on that note, don't you?" Josh nods. "Course you do, you're not stupid." 

Josh's mouth is starting to water the longer he keeps it open and it's almost as if Tyler can tell, because he pushes the gun deeper into his mouth and Josh gags, a thick string of saliva leaking out and making its way to the floor, soaking into the carpet. There is fear in his eyes, Tyler can see it, bright and clear, and it manifests itself to him in a form of a different liquid. It's the tears that collect in the corners of Josh's eyes, both from the hard muzzle irritating his throat and unsureness of what comes next, Tyler assumes. 

The silence continues and it grows more and more uncomfortable, more itchy, more unbearable. Tyler waits until it almost turns ominous, then leans just a little closer and cups Josh's chin, lifting his head up. The gun inches further down his throat as it happens and Josh whimpers, trying to pull back. "I value you more than anyone else I know, Josh. I really do. But I need you to show me that you’re here for a reason. Prove that you still want this like I do." 

Josh swallows around the muzzle of the gun and takes it deeper before Tyler can push it in himself, keeping eye contact the whole time. He then wrenches himself out of Tyler's grip and pulls off, coughing and spitting on the floor. Tyler laughs, grimacing at the sight of the wet, slippery weapon. 

"Of course. That's what you're good at, right?" He teases, cocking an eyebrow. 

"Shut up. I'm not doing anything until you promise." Josh croaks. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand. 

Tyler lets out a heavy, exhausted exhale that ends with a groan. "I know how to take care of myself, okay? I'll take a day off, I'll drink some water, whatever," he says, throwing his hands up. "But you have to stay with me. Deal?" 

Josh makes him wait a moment to get a response. "Deal." 

"Cool. Now put your mouth on my dick." 

And so, Josh does. He opens his mouth for Tyler again, waiting for him to pull down his shorts and letting him press the tip of his dick against his bottom lip as soon as it's out. He swipes his tongue against the slit, getting it wet, marking the underside of Tyler's dick with his saliva. Tyler sighs, relaxing his stiff shoulders and giving in as much as his body allows it. Josh looks up at him, eyes flaring with determination and growing arousal. His lips curl around Tyler's dick, taking the head in, not rushing, taking it slow, so that Tyler can get used to the wetness and warmth of his mouth when it's focused on just one point. 

Tyler groans with frustration, bucking his hips, but Josh recoils, threatening to pull off if he keeps trying to rush things. "C'mon, keep going. Show me h-how good you can be." 

A quiet grunt escapes Josh's throat. Tyler knows how to work him. A couple words of praise and encouragement and Josh softens before him. Josh opens his mouth a little wider and it's enough of an invitation to make Tyler shuffle closer and push his cock down his throat. It glides, glides and glides until the tip hits the back of Josh's throat with a little too much force and makes him gag. Tyler puts his hands on top of Josh's head, fingers tangling in his soft hair, almost as if he's worried that he might pull off and leave him unfinished. 

Josh doesn't think of it for a second, but allows Tyler to tug at his hair and force him further down his cock anyway. He knows what Tyler wants, coercing his throat to cooperate and adjust. He breathes in an out through his nose, heavily, and fumbles blindly to cup Tyler's balls with his hand while he's pushing him so far that Josh gets nothing but a nose buried in unkempt pubes and lips stretched around the thickest part of his dick. 

Tyler groans and snaps his hips up once, twice, biting down on his bottom lip so harshly his teeth almost draw blood. Josh gags and presses a thumb to his testicles, rubbing in circles, other hand reaching for Tyler's calf to dig blunt nails into fuzzy skin. 

Tyler, still gripping Josh by his hair, slowly pulls his head back and Josh hollows his cheeks and scrapes his teeth against Tyler's dick as it inches out of his throat. Tyler throws his head back and feels his brain fall apart inside it, almost like shattered glass, misplaced bits and pieces floating around and struggling to do their job correctly. He whines and decides that it's okay. It doesn't matter. He hungers for something that will make him feel, and pain is the most intense thing out of all he can think of. It weakens his body but empowers his mind, loads him with energy and desire to keep going. 

Josh licks his lips and looks at him, breathing through his mouth. This time, their eyes meet. "Do you want to come like this?" 

Tyler tries not to get lost while Josh keeps squeezing his balls lightly to keep him entertained. He pushes Josh's hand out of the way and his own hesitates above his swollen dick. "No. No, I wanna- wanna try somethin'. I'll tell you when to stop." 

Josh shrugs, pressing at Tyler's dick with a finger to angle it and put it back in his mouth. It's warm and wet in his mouth, precome mixing with his own saliva. 

It doesn't last very long, Tyler is still fairly hazy and weak after passing out twice and there is not much stamina left inside of him. What he could have easily handled if he were in better condition becomes too much, and Tyler has other plans that he doesn't want to abandon. He tugs at Josh's hair and pulls him off hurriedly when bubbling warmth begins to pool in his belly. 

"Okay, okay, that's enough," he pants, chest raising and falling rapidly. "I'm gonna get up now, want you on the bed instead. Just lie down, I'll do the rest." 

Josh follows his instructions, as always, getting up. There are vibrant, red marks on his knees from the coarse carpet on the floor. He waits for Tyler to get up as well and lies down on his back while Tyler is looking around the room. 

"You don't want to go in dry or something, do you?" Josh asks. 

Tyler scoffs, turning around. He picks up his backpack from the floor. Once he finally finds it, that is. Josh may have taken care of him when he passed out, but he definitely could have taken some time to organize their things as well. 

"Course I don't, you idiot," he says, unzipping the smallest pocket on the front and riffling through it. He pulls out a half empty bottle of lubricant and shakes it so that Josh can see. "I think in advance." He drops the backpack back on the floor and approaches the bed, uncapping the bottle. "Besides, I'm not going anywhere. You're giving me a ride." 

Josh's eyebrows shoot up in surprise and it's exactly the reaction Tyler was hoping for. He's doesn't feel like working too hard for an ounce of pleasure, he needs to preserve his health and strength first and foremost. After all, it's what Josh wants him to do. 

Tyler wasn't lying when he said he was going to take care of everything. Putting the lube bottle between his teeth to get it out of the way, he starts helping Josh with his clothes, getting rid of piece after piece, unbuttoning button after button to get to him. He feels more comfortable the more of Josh's bare skin he can see. 

Tyler crawls into his lap, tossing clothes to the side. He's surely taking his time with it, enveloping Josh's legs with his own, careful so as to not squeeze too hard, making their dicks brush against one another in the process. Josh shivers, and Tyler hums, concentrating. 

He coats two fingers with the thick liquid and spreads it around with his thumb, reaching behind himself and nipping at the inside of his cheek as he slowly presses an index finger in with a groan. It's been a while. It's usually the other way around for them, so Tyler doesn't have to worry about preparing himself too often, working Josh through it instead. It's more difficult this way, and definitely less enjoyable, but it has to be done if he wants to prove that he knows his limits and doing this isn't anywhere near the line. 

Tyler's wrist aches the longer he's messing with himself, but one finger isn't going to do the job. He pulls it out, keeping the tip inside himself, and gently presses another one in, spreading both to push them further. There is no way he's going to reach his prostate, not at this angle, maybe barely brush it if he tries hard enough, but it'll cost him more energy than it'll give him satisfaction in return. 

He slides his fingers in and out, angling his hips every now and then, until he builds enough courage to slip a third one in. He gasps, unsure what to do with his other hand, so it hovers above Josh's belly and doesn't quite reach it until Josh covers it with his own, pressing down. Tyler whimpers, accepting it. 

He pulls his fingers out in a rush and exhales shakily. There's a sort of frustration growing inside of him, mixed with stubborn determination to put on a good show. Tyler's eyes are fixed on Josh's dick, half hard at this point. His own is not as big, and he loves that about them. He wants to see them compared, so he moves a little closer and curls his fingers around Josh's dick, pressing it against his own. 

Tyler's left hand joins quickly after that, and even though their dicks are already pressed tightly together, he keeps squeezing harder, until Josh can't help but whine. "Gotta get hard, or we're not going anywhere," he says warningly, relieving some pressure as he begins to draw out a long, lazy upward stroke, angling his hand near the tip of Josh's cock to scrape his nails against it. Josh gasps, trying to retract, but Tyler is more successful in his doings. Since Josh was feeling brave enough earlier to hurt him a little, he doesn't want to remain indebted. 

Tyler digs the lube bottle out of the mess of sheets and aligns the opening with the tip of Josh's dick, squeezing, then, until he's satisfied with the amount of liquid trickling down the base, all the way down to his balls. It may be more than necessary, but the sight is worth the waste. 

He lifts himself up and grabs Josh's dick, giving it a good stroke before pressing it to his hole. He rubs the tip against it and Josh sucks his bottom lip into his mouth to stop himself from making a sound. Tyler looks at him and says, "There are two rules." He sinks a little lower, the very tip of Josh's cock pushing past the rim of muscles and making both of them groan. "First, don't talk unless I say so. And second," he pauses, "don't touch me." 

Josh nods, even though he doesn't have to. 

Tyler appreciates the display of obedience nonetheless. He keeps pressing his hips down, lower, lower, Josh's dick slowly filling him up. He's so thankful for this moment of rest in their lives, he would never want to rush in a situation like this, when it's so much better like that, when he can feel every inch stretching him from the inside and intensifying the sensation that comes with it. Josh's dick twitches inside him and he hums with pleasure, eyes shutting close. It feels good, so, so good, and it only keeps getting better. He keeps sinking lower until Josh is fully seated inside of him, his balls pressed tight against Josh's abdomen. 

Tyler can feel tears prickling in the corners of his eyes, from relief, from exhaustion, from the feelings he'd almost forgotten existed and could unfold inside of him all at once. He's unsure as to what he should focus on first, so he simply begins to roll his hips before his thoughts become louder than his needs. His legs tremble pathetically as he attempts to lift himself up again, but he couldn't let his weakness show, he couldn't let Josh see that he was struggling and lecture him about self-care again. So he grits his teeth and drives his hips down again, at a different angle this time, trying to find the spot that he knows will distract him upon being hit. 

Tyler starts bouncing, more or less at a steady rhythm, every move slow and sloppy, but he's bouncing. He's already tired and feels closer than further away from tapping out again, so he might as well do what he's meant to do, and that is grinding his hips and working Josh's dick inside himself until it hits his prostate and makes him feel good. 

He tips forward and puts his hands on top of Josh's chest, small palms and dainty fingers fitting perfectly on his pecs, and Tyler whines, head hanging low between his shoulders because Josh still keeps his hands to himself, even moves them out of the way to avoid touching him like he asked. He's exhausted. He's enamored, more than he knew, he's scared, though he was already aware of this fear, fear of losing Josh as soon as he stepped into his life. He's warm on the inside and sticky with sweat on the outside, and Josh's eyes are ogling nothing but him. Tyler doesn't know. 

When Tyler opens his eyes again, the tears he's been trapping inside roll down his flushed cheeks and he gets a faceful of Josh, who's staring at him absently and whimpering with each bob of his hips. "C'mon, Josh," he spurs, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of Josh's chest. "I know you want to." 

Josh does, he wants it, even though he's not sure what Tyler is proposing until one of the hands grasping him comes off and reaches for his hand, guiding. He grips Tyler's arm and caresses his skin. Tyler is merciless, to both himself and Josh, rocking his hips as hard as he can once he finally, finally finds the right angle. He rocks, he clenches around Josh's cock and he groans with each movement. 

Tyler needs to come, he's afraid that he might die if he doesn't get to soon enough, but he doesn't want help. He allows Josh's hand to travel to his back and stay there, fingers dug into his spine, but he doesn't ask for more. He puts his hand on Josh's neck and looks him in the eyes, his own wet and puffy and Josh's cloudy with overwhelming bliss. Tyler doesn’t apply any pressure, just simply keeps it there. 

Slowing down, he says, "I know I'm messed up," and Josh swallows nervously, throat moving under Tyler's hand. "But that's okay, 'cause I know you are, too." Josh can't stifle a moan this time, it slips past his lips and fills up Tyler's senses. He wants to hear more. "Speak." 

"Tyler, I need-" 

Tyler removes his hand from Josh's neck and sits with his back straight again. Josh's hand slips off his back and he moves it to Tyler's thigh instead. Josh cries out and he laughs breathlessly, lifting himself up again to sink back down, once, twice, slow but harsh. 

"I know, I know. C'mon, let go," he grunts, wanting so badly for Josh to come undone before he does. Josh, completely mellow under his weight, gives him just what he needs. He comes, spilling inside him and bucking his hips upwards, missing Tyler's choppy rhythm. Tyler doesn't stop bouncing on his dick, ignoring Josh's tries of stilling his hips and his useless whining. 

He keeps going, huffing and groaning until he comes, too, thick, milky stripes marking his chest as well as Josh's as his cock twitches and bobs between his legs. Tyler's breath gets caught in his throat and he only lets out a loud, relieved moan once he comes down from his high and his cock aches from lack of touch. 

He definitely managed to prove a point. But he got to the very edge of his limits as well, and if he were forced to keep doing this any longer, he would have done the complete opposite. Tyler gets up, slowly, grimacing with discomfort when Josh's cock slips out of his ass and cum trickles down his thighs. He wipes himself dry with the sheets and plops down next to Josh, heart still racing in his chest. 

They both stare at the ceiling, analyzing the rain stains here and there, as if there is a point in doing so. Josh clicks his tongue, then asks, "Do you think they're looking for us?" 

"I'd be surprised if they weren't," Tyler says. His right leg is bouncing anxiously. They should be moving around as much as possible. If they stay in the same place for too long, it won't end well. "We'll leave in the morning." 

Josh turns to the side. Tyler turns his head to look at him. "And then? Where are we going?" 

Tyler shrugs. "I dunno. America's pretty big." 

"You want to leave Ohio?" Josh asks. He'd never thought he would catch Tyler considering such an option. He knows how much he loves this state and how well he knows Columbus. It definitely wouldn't be a quick decision, and Tyler definitely wouldn't say this if there wasn't something bothering him, or worrying him, for that matter. 

"Thinking about it," he mumbles back. His eyes are getting stingy again. "We aren't safe here anymore. I made it unsafe for us. For you." 

Josh looks away for a moment, processing everything. He scoots up and cups Tyler's cheek. He can tell Tyler is trying his hardest not to cry in front of him. "Hey, it's okay. Look at me." Tyler does. He'd embarrassed himself enough times in the past few weeks, one more time won't make a difference. "So what if have to leave? Sure, Columbus is pretty great, but it doesn't have anything that we won't find somewhere else. Well, maybe besides HoundDogs." 

Tyler can't help but laugh, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "I love you, man." 

Josh doesn't say it back, but Tyler knows. Tyler knows, because Josh embraces him with his arm and pulls him in for the weirdest hug he'd ever received. He turns his head back towards the ceiling and thinks. Truth be told, he doesn't want to go anywhere. If it's all about to crumble and fall apart soon, he'd rather let it happen here, where they started. They could go down in history and keep a title for life.

It's almost funny to him, how it all turned out. How the bubblegum started it, and the case he purchased out of his own greed could end it all.

**Author's Note:**

> u can find me on twitter - @ astrolucent or on tumblr - @ joshdunfiles (tho i keep forgetting about it so i'm not there as often hh)


End file.
